and it came to be that they were all gathered in a quaint roulette cellar in the evil quarter of Lisbon that night, and found that the wise man Ramalingam were seated in the corner, where he was shuffling cards.

Whereas none of them could bring to mind why they had decided to come there, they milled around in a confused manner and argued about small things.

The wise man Ramalingam said nothing, and shuffled his cards.

Finally, the one they called Doktor Ayatholla, who was the boldest and most belligerent out of them all, stepped forth, and did ask of him

“What in the name of the great god Fuck, man?”

Whereupon the wise man Ramalingam set down his pack of cards, and with no apparent effort steadied his chair, which had been on the verge of tipping backwards without ever quite doing so. and asketh of them

“Are you the quarter pounder men”?

After some consultation and debate and an awkward silence, it became painfully apparent that none of them were.

The wise man Ramalingam, having been staring at a dust mote in the harsh cone of light emanating from the room’s only light bulb and not listening at all, said “Then I shall teach you to speak to God”.

Let us all join together and sing what the wise man Ramalingam taught them that night.

Hey, buddy, whoever you think you are
We don’t care what’s your name today
Or what it is that you think we owe
Here’s what we want you to do
Because we KNOW you can, and don’t deny it

Give us back our friends.
Give us back our lovers.
Give them all back to us.
Take away the loss, take away the pain, and no lame excuses, you smug fuck.
Somewhere, someone is gasping for a last breath that won’t come
Somewhere, someone is born to unending horror
Everywhere, guts are spilling, flesh is tearing, bone is cracking, hearts and minds are failing
There are toddlers, tonight, screaming
as you watch it all.

We heard where you made this place easy as a breath and quick as a thought
and oh, do we see how you made it run on pain and rot and humiliation
And you trapped us here.
And you thought that was all there was to it?
That you could just sit back and watch us squirm for you?
There’s a reason we called you here today.
We’re going to tell you what we think of your handiwork.
We’ll do it in the only language you ever invented.

Come on, lads, let’s nail this worthless little shit up
Let’s do it where they can’t pry him down again.

And some folks say that if no one’s heard him yet, the Lord’s still hanging alone on a filthy basement wall in Lisbon.